Hunting the Balrog
by balrogthane
Summary: A lone Dwarf goes to kill the Bane that has invaded Moria. Not AU or anything, just a closer look at how something might have happened.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer

Apparently, these things are important. So I'll just stick this at the front of every story I put out here: this story is not for money ! I am not going to get anything for it ! That should be obvious, seeing as it's here on FF.net, but if it isn't then this makes it clear.

All right, as to ownership-- I don't own any of the characters, nor really even the plot-- just the specifics. I do NOT own any characters mentioned in Lord of the Rings, nor do I own Lord of the Rings, nor do I own any rights to it ! There.

Now you can read the story. :-)

-(----   


The thrumming in my ears grew. Somewhere, ahead of me, the beast lay in wait-- the creature that had killed my father. I crept forward quietly, trusting in the Demon's ceaseless sound to cover for my noise. Past the abandoned corridors leading to the storehouses, past the museum of our greatest works, past the wrecked Council chamber.

Ahead of me two mighty columns stood by a gateway into the mines. The creature lived here-- where it had first come in to Moria. And through the gate crept the glow, the glow of the Balrog.

I swallowed. No Dwarf had faced such a danger before, but I had faced many others: cave-ins, Orcs, Wargs of the mountains, the nameless things we met and fought in the deeps of our world. Nothing had prepared us for this foe, though. I had only seen it from a distance, over my shoulder as I fled; only one or two of us had seen it closer and survived, or could speak of it, and from these I had gathered an idea of what awaited me in that chamber.

Nigh 20 feet tall-- nearly thrice the height of even a tall Elf, and here I was, average Dwarf height, planning to attack it. Physical details obscured in unquenchable flame, but unquestionably unnatural, demonic. And beyond the hell-sprung horror of its appearance was the force of its mind, the deadly intelligence crouching behind such inhuman features.

I loosened my grip on my axe and felt it slide down between my hands, slippery with my fear sweat. I carried my father's axe-- he had not had it when the creature caught and slew him, so it remained for me to use. I carried other axes, for throwing and one-handed use and special situations, but all my trust was in this axe, in mighty Trollsbane with its carefully-inscribed runes.

The gate loomed before me; I crouched to the side, just beyond the demonic light pouring over the stone floor. The vibration of the beast quivered through my armor, through my bones, shook my very heart. I could feel the slight change in tone as it breathed in, breathed out. Very even, very calm. I whispered a prayer to Mahal-- may it be sleeping!-- then peered around the corner.

Through the gate I saw a horrible sight. My father sat there, enthroned in a Councilor's chair: I knew it was he by his armor, for naught else remained but his blackened bones. The mocking skull grinned back at me; I steeled myself to the awful vision and looked past.

Beyond lay a pile of bloodied, burnt Dwarven armor and weaponry. With another feeling of sick horror I realized this was the remnants of the foe's feast. Nothing explicitly remained, but I _felt_ it. This was what happened when it caught one of our number.

And beyond that was something surprising: a bonfire. I could only see it now that I had passed through the gate. I observed it carefully, and found that the wood it was built on did not burn, but endured, much like the Demon itself burned but endured. Past the bonfire's towering flames the corridor ran away into darkness, down into the mines from whence it had come.

I looked around in confusion. The creature was nowhere, and this chamber was hardly a large one. Where had it gone to, and when would it return? I realized with a wave of terror that I had been duped, had advanced on a trap set for any foolish enough to seek out our enemy in its lair. I spun, hair dripping with sudden sweat, and stumbled out of the light. I didn't stop until I was cowering in the uttermost shadow of one of the columns.

_Fool,_ I whispered to myself. _You aren't fighting a brute animal!_ The Balrog could think as well as I, if not better; to outwit it I would have to draw on every Dwarven trick, every bit of cleverness available to me. I took a deep breath and thought more clearly. Now I had a better idea of the area, in its new state, and I could plan.

The Demon would not have descended back into the mines, there was nothing there. It was not anywhere in the vicinity, or I would have seen it. This area, though, was very large; only one way in-- the way I had come-- and only one way out-- into the mines. So it was somewhere in this cavern, exploring the dark buildings and silent streets. Why?

Something didn't add up. It was a year since the Balrog had appeared, plenty of time for it to have explored every bit of this cavern. I also realized I had no idea what would be making that thrumming, if not the Demon itself.

Just then something caught at the farthest stretch of my thought, as if I had seen something in the corner of my eye. Something Hunted me, body and mind; the Balrog's calm, collected spirit cast itself out, seeking my own.

It came again, stabbing closer this time; again, and this time it found me.


	2. Chapter 2

The Demon's mindspeech entered into my mind like a casual arrow into my brain.

[So you have come.]

I could almost see the words before me; the burning Power behind them blinded my true vision. I could almost feel the Balrog, towering over me like a thundercloud of fire and shadow and death. I found my chest constricting, crushed by the invisible hand of fear, and gasped for breath. The Balrog's spirit watched me, amused. [You seek vengeance?]

Now I met the mental assault head on, held on to my own consciousness by a taut thread, and sought the will to respond in kind. [Death], I replied. It was all I could manage, but to my threat I could feel the Balrog's dark laughter welling up, harsh chuckles beating within my mind.

[Your father was more articulate, Dwarf.] I cringed without knowing it, dented my armor in an attempt to squeeze myself farther back into the corner. [And braver. He at least put up a fight.] The mindspeech paused, and some part of my brain that yet functioned understood the Demon did not know where I was. Then, [Why do you hide in the shadows?]

I gulped. Enduring the Demon's mindspeech was not enough-- I needed to be able to cut it off entirely, if I was to have even a slim chance of battle. I turned to memories of the Warrior's Code, of the intense self-discipline and how we had learned to conquer body and mind to our wills. Using the same methods, I set myself to block out the Balrog's intruding mindspeech.

[You seek to hinder me?] I focused painfully on the task at hand, forcing the voice into nothingness, driving it down to be subservient to my will. The mindspeech returned, but I thrust the Demon from my mind decisively and threw up barriers to stop its return. I felt its thought strike again, and could detect a burning anger at being foiled, but did not understand the words. I smiled grimly; I was alone, for the moment.

Before the creature turned its full strength to breaking my mind, I gathered myself together and darted out of my cover, keeping close by the wall. I ran nearly 20 paces before freezing in shock: my shadow was running along the wall next to me.

A shadow, from what? I was far out of the light cast by the bonfire; the Balrog's light must have reached me. I looked out over the cavern, and yes, I could see a vague light moving-- a strange, shaded light, that seemed to illuminate nothing and only show darkness. The light shifted directions as I watched, weaving through the empty streets, but always advancing towards me.

I ran again, trusting in the muffling sound of the beast to hide that of my footfalls. Suddenly, they rang out sharp and clear; I halted with a sick lurch of dread to hear their echos running frightened to hide in the farthest corners of the cavern. The thrumming had ceased, leaving me horribly exposed, and the diabolical illumination flared up eagerly-- then sped toward me.

I began to hear the thrumming again, at a distance, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of a mighty form, footsteps of terror. I ran for the nearest house, darted through the open door, and froze.

The footsteps approached, slowed, stopped. Through a window just around the corner, in the next room, the Demon-glare poured into the room: it splashed onto the floor and hurried over the walls, seeking for me. I held my breath, bid my heart be still, willed the creature to continue. All I got was another mindspeech attack; this one felt of amusement.

I cast a quick glance into the shadows beyond me. At the back of the house a stair climbed up to the second floor; probably the storeroom, Dwarves rarely did more than absolutely necessary on upper floors. I shifted carefully, took one silent, gasping breath, and sprinted for the stairs.

As my foot struck the first step the wall behind me, the wall I had been leaning against, exploded inward-- the Demon had struck it down, its light was blasting through, fragments of stone and metal were ricocheting around me, past me, into me. I didn't spare a look back, just hurled myself up the steps.

A landing, halfway up; I spun and leapt up to the second floor and shifted my grip on the axe. The window I had expected and now counted on did not exist, only a ceiling hole; fortunately, it did not have any brand new holes produced by the beast below. I ran for the ceiling hole, planning to jump and scramble out through it, but the floor buckled beneath my feet and I flew myself aside.

I hit with my shoulder, rolled, and came up on one knee to see the burst of flame shatter the floor and herald my foe's arrival. Only the head showed, shrouded in a flickering crown of shadowed flame, but I could see enough to make my heart forget to beat. Nightmare horns curling, eyes like windows into the Pit, supernatural heat turning the room into an instant furnace.

The ghastly visage turned slowly, almost lazily, to focus on me, and though it spoke no word I could see the smile. I scrabbled backwards, axe forgotten in my quaking hands, as it casually smashed one arm through the stone.

Its right arm came up like a breaching whale, plunging up through the floor and then pushing forward to reach for me. Like a frozen statue I crouched, waiting, as the arm moved slowly closer... oh so slowly. I noted, absurdly, the three fingers and overdeveloped thumb, the way the flames snapped and flashed out of cracks in the lava-like skin, the two-inch-long claws on every digit. The flames themselves seemed slowed, turned and danced deliberately, and I found myself moving as if in a dream-- no, a nightmare. The hand inched closer, and my beard began to curl; I could not move my axe. The hand inched closer, and my beard began smoking, my armor became painful to the touch from the heat; still, I could not move my axe.

An overlooked part of my brain broke in then, clamoring that I was being hijacked; I realized this lethargy was another one of the Demon's effects, making me easy prey. I focused my mind and shook it off, then in one motion raised the axe and let it fall on the outstretched finger.

The enchanted blade hit the finger with an awful scraaaape, as though I was hewing stone, but the finger spouted flames and a peculiar lava-like substance; the Balrog bellowed in pain, shock, and fury, and the hand snapped back. I twisted around and came to my feet, then scuttled back from the expected retaliation, but the Balrog vanished under the floor; again, I was reminded of nothing so much as a whale.

But this was not safe. The beast surely planned to burst out here, where I stood: I must move. So I took a deep breath and ran for the ceiling hole. The Demon's entry had come right below it, but I sprang for the edge anyway.

Not a moment too late. Once again the Balrog blasted through right behind me, dashing the rocks around the room; one of them caught my helmet a sharp crack and I completely missed my goal, fell instead back to the first floor.

This time I landed firmly on my feet and spun immediately. The Demon was turned away from me, its upper body hidden by what remained of the floor. I could see little of the lower body: my eyes were defeated by the fire and darkness drawn about it like a cloak. I caught a glimpse of great cloven hooves, an almost skeletal tail, huge wings ruffled against its back. It seemed to have completely lost me, and it paused suddenly motionless; I saw my chance and attacked.

I hurled my axe against its leg. The blade clove deep into the calf, and the resulting bellow and thrashing turned the remnants of the house into a complete ruin. The roof crashed down, the walls caved, and I was thrown backward with a curse. Mahal must have been watching over me, though; where I landed the ceiling hole crashed right on my head.

The Balrog turned, but unsteadily, and I just ran, jumping the piles of rubble. Behind me I heard the sound and felt the indescribably rush of Power-- I spared a glance to see the Demon drawing a long, flaming bow out of nothingness. Its wings spread like looming death and it came for me. It limped, though, and I heard it give a low growl: the only vocal communication it ever uttered. I didn't look again, just ran around the corner and kept going.

As I ran I worked my mind for a final end to this conflict. I needed to get myself higher, or the Balrog lower; preferably the latter, since that would inconvenience it. Otherwise I would never do anything but hack at his legs. I needed a trap, but how would I set a trap for an enemy like this one?

A rush of wings, the thud of a huge form landing, and I looked up to see the Balrog land on a nearby roof. It grinned at me, raised its bow, and once again drew something out of nowhere-- an arrow. I bolted for a narrow alley.

I threw myself the last foot, and the stone beside me shattered in a fiery explosion: the arrow missed. I scrambled up and ran the length of the alley, where it met a large building and turned a sharp right. I squeezed into this and worked my way along, expecting any moment for the wall next to me to suddenly crush the life from my body.

I was discovering how much I had actually depended on the Demon. Without its light, I was having difficulty seeing. So ironic. The crack between the buildings had been poorly illuminated at its beginning; now it was all but pure blackness. I continued on. The one building stopped, and another began, leaving a wider crack; I sped up. I was beginning to realize what building I was creeping next to, and with that knowledge a plan began forming. If only I could survive...


	3. Chapter 3

3

I continued creeping, then suddenly the blackness vanished. I looked up to see the Balrog straddling the crack, now holding a sword in place of the bow. The mindspeech came, angry this time, and it raised the sword swiftly. I ran for the end of the alley, and the sword swept down; I felt its very tip slit my braided hair in the back, but it missed me. I slammed one hand against the wall to steady myself, turned, and ran out from the alley.

The entrance to Mahal's Temple loomed over me, a giant edifice. We did not worship Mahal as Lord of the Universe (Him we knew by the Elvish name of Eru) but as our Maker. Any other day I would have been ritually purified before entering the Temple, body and mind; now I had no time, only enough to pause on the steps and whisper a quick prayer.

I leapt inside; the Demon-glare raced after me, turned the corner and sped into the hallowed area. I heard the Balrog pause-- even a creature such as it did not take stepping into Mahal's abode lightly. But the infidel dares all, and it continued after me. Its light ran through, seeking me once more, peering past the columns and into the highest recesses. But it did not find me.

Mahal's Temples are always built as fortresses as much as places of thanks. And here, in our greatest abode, we had made the ultimate fortress. At the back of the temple stood the mighty statue of Mahal, crowned with the Hammer and Gem-- symbols of what he gave to us, our tools and our materials. What was not apparent, and what my foe did not see, were the secret passages: within the walls and beneath the floor hid tunnels, treasuries, even two separate armories. Secret passages were hardly a rarity in Dwarven strongholds; rather, every one contained a well-known network, with the nexus always at the Temple.

But I sought not escape when I sought the Temple. It offered me something else entirely-- a trap. It was easily the only building large enough and strong enough to contain the Demon, making it the only real choice.

Speaking of the Demon: it had gone still again, and I felt that Power coursing out, trying to locate me. The same thing it had done back in the house, to find out I was behind it, and I knew it would find me. I could feel the tendrils of its spirit-senses spreading out, like a subsonic throbbing in the air: I willed them away, to the back of the Temple, to the ceiling, anywhere but to this corner, and yet they came.

I froze, not daring to breathe, as one headed straight for me. And yet-- it seemed to be blind, it passed through me and into the corner, then returned to the Demon from whence it came. And still the Balrog Hunted.

"Praise be to Mahal," I whispered under my breath. I knew the Maker had protected me, here in his Temple; the Demon turned and strode disappointed from the Temple, searching for my hiding place. Its glare faded away, its thrumming quieted to a distant murmur, and I was left alone. I slipped out of the cubicle just around the corner from the entrance and waited for my eyes to adjust.

Denied my enemy's light again, I had to deal with vaguest outlines and my recollection of the Temple layout. And deal with the Balrog's mindspeech, I remembered, as the strongest attack yet struck me-- it left my defenses quivering and me on my knees. Pure, unmixed fury. Not a single touch of the dross of other emotions slipped in. I smiled grimly; I seemed to be the first to escape it.

I contemplated how, exactly, to entrap the Balrog. I knew it had to be here, but what would I use? The columns would be ideal: knock them down on its head, bar the entrance, and let me go for the kill. But how could I get them to fall?

As if in answer, a thought blossomed in my head. I know it did not come from me, Mahal must have planted it there. The armories held many tools, one of which happened to be blasting equipment. A well-placed charge at the base of the columns I wanted to fall would leave them hanging from the ceiling; clearly they wouldn't be able to take that and would detach themselves and fall. I grinned and headed for the nearest armory.

As I returned, I managed to coincide with the Demon passing by again. I crouched back into the passage as its glow flickered into the Temple half-heartedly, then receded again. I waited until the thrumming had done so as well before exiting the tunnel.

Let's see: a charge at the base of each of the two front columns, so they'd fall towards each other; that would block the door. And then, these six here could all be prepared to fall towards one central position; I'd just need to figure out how to make the Balrog get in that position and it'd be helplessly trapped. And how was I to lure it in?

Clearly, anything deeply stupid would be a blatantly obvious invitation to a trap, and that wasn't going to work. It had to look like an accident, I mustn't appear to want it to come or the game would be up. I pondered the question as I placed the charges. And how would I set them off? Couldn't have them explode when the Balrog approached them. No. But I could use its flame to my advantage, anyway.

Our charges could be ignited by enough heat, but we usually set them off with fuses. A nice short fuse on the two at the door, fuses the Demon would light merely by entering, and they should block its escape nicely. For the six-- I frowned.

I finished setting the charges and readied the pair at the entrance. For the six, I decided on some of our lightning fuse; if I got the lengths to be identical, I'd have a maximum of two seconds from lighting it to the charges exploding. That should be enough.

Back to the armory, back to the charges, and everything was ready. I'd be somewhere near Mahal when I set off the fuses, and safely away from the explosions; if the worst came to the worst and the roof collapsed, well, the back of the Temple was the safest place to be. The trap was set, all I needed was the bait and the prey.


	4. Chapter 4

4

I faced the entrance and readied my axe, feeling the sweat begin to ooze under my helmet again. Here, crouching within what protection Mahal offered-- imagined or real-- I could forget the Demon I faced, put off the ultimate confrontation. To leave the Temple I would be returning to my enemy, returning to my fear: before I had either not known the magnitude of the horror facing me or had no choice. Yet now... I could take the tunnels, return to my people and flee Khazad-Dûm. Father could not be avenged by me.

My inner turmoil did not last long, however. My people would be served far better by the destruction of this creature than by a cowardly king, and I had already instructed them to flee if I did not return. They didn't need me there, and my father didn't need me there-- here was my duty. I stepped from the Temple.

Now I faced an odd problem: how to attract attention without appearing to wish to do so. The Demon-glow reached feebly for the ceiling a few hundred yards down to the right, and I decided on an attack followed by a run back to the Temple. But not too obvious; I crept down the street, hiding in the shadows and darting across the open spaces when I had to. I peered around the corner by the glow and found my foe with its entire body pressed against the ground, trying to detect me, hoping to succeed with physical means where spiritual had failed.

And yet it had not noticed me. I could finish it here, now, without destroying the Temple. I shifted my grip and prepared for a dash up to the Demon, a deadly blow to the head. Once again, I stood before a line of no return, and once again, I crossed it decisively.

I ran forward, axe trailing to my right in preparation for a powerful swing. Yet I was barely a yard from its body when the hallucination vanished, and I skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty courtyard.

The Balrog had me in its own trap. But before springing, it had other plans; an attack long prepared and planned burst upon my mental defenses, shattering them in a tempest of Power and fury. I lost my grip on reality entirely and fell to the ground.

[So easy. Why do you even try? Why not surrender?] The voice overwhelmed me so completely it seemed the only existence I had ever known, all it spoke the only reason in the world. The blasted remnants of my spirit found itself agreeing with the Demon's command to lift myself, to follow the call to its source far beyond the circles of this world, to prostrate myself before my Lord enthroned upon a mighty seat. Yet it was not the Balrog I faced, but a form far greater and darker. Of human shape it seemed, yet of a size unknown in legend or nightmare; Power, majesty, and horror radiated from it as from a Sun descended here to Earth. Upon the mighty head sat a high crown of iron, in the hand as a scepter rested a hammer of terror. The eyes of flame lifted and searched my face; I shut my own eyes and turned away, shrank into a helpless ball, left naked and defenseless before Morgoth.

For so it was. Lord of the Darkness, mightiest among the Ainur before his fall, spirit of majesty beyond the thought of Man or Dwarf, and he laughed to see me there. Helpless, I felt myself turned to face him, and he smiled to see me. Then he spoke, and the shadows themselves quailed to hear his voice. I can repeat no word that proceeded from his mouth, for the horror overcame my spirit leaving me witless and mad: all I can recall is a dark power in every syllable that crushed my every attempt at resistance.

And yet-- the words suddenly ceased, the kingly brow furrowed, and Morgoth rose from his throne. Something appeared in his face, almost akin to fear, and the vision shattered.

I was flat on my back, spread-eagled with the Balrog approaching. Somehow my mind was healed, my spirit returned to its place, and my axe back in my hands. I felt the touch of the Maker brush against me, and once again I whispered thanks to Mahal as I heaved myself to my feet. The Demon sent another sortie against my mental defenses, but now I could feel those defenses stronger than anything I could have erected. The attack failed miserably, and my foe's anger reached new heights: it now wished only for death, for the destruction of this miserable worm who dared to successfully resist.

I looked down the road to see it preparing its bow of fire again, and I ran for cover. Not fast enough; at the last moment I threw myself forward face-first, and felt the unmatched exhilaration of feeling an arrow pass a finger's breadth overhead. I managed to hit with my shoulder and continued the roll for nearly 10 feet before coming to my feet; I came up with my bearings intact and spun towards the Balrog.

It left me no time, that was sure-- it took another one of its flying leaps onto a building, forcing me to abandon the courtyard or be shot down. I fled to my right, hoping to work my way back toward the Temple, but suddenly I had the unenviable experience of having a Balrog land on the rooftop just above me.

It hit the roof surprisingly gracefully, for a creature its size-- one massive hand curled over the edge, the other raising a whip. My brain took a precious moment to register the new weapon, then the Demon lashed the whip out at me; instinct threw my arm before my face, and the whip curled around my armored wrist. It immediately scalded, the supernatural heat turning the metal into a miniature oven. Then the Demon jerked back on the whip.

Somehow I kept one hand tight on my axe. The Balrog failed to lift me all the way back to itself; the whip unraveled before then, and I smashed into the side of the building with a metallic thud and a bruised curse.

I fell a good 10 feet to the ground and landed hard on my back. The beast stared right down at me, that diabolical grin playing across its face, and raised its other hand. I sucked in a hard-won breath and rolled over and up, then ran-- back towards the Temple again.

As I ran I felt another mindspeech attack, a frustrated one this time. Then the whip caught me around my middle, but I was ready for it-- the moment it caught me, I struck it with my axe, holding the handle just below the head. The enchanted edge struck the fiery strand, and with an explosive sound as of a taut rope snapping in two, the whip parted; the portion wrapped around me vanished in thick gray smoke, and I heard an annoyed Demon growl from behind me. At the end of this road loomed one of the Temple's attendant buildings, and I reached its edge before the Demon could catch me again.

Up to the side of the building, quick turn to the right, run along its edge, faster-- its got the bow out again! I flung myself forward again, but this time there was no arrow to smash into the building's side. Instead, even as I scrambled to my feet, I felt a smug mindspeech attempt and the light vanished.

I jerked to a stop. Somewhere not a hundred paces behind me, my foe had somehow ceased to burn. A sound almost like a laugh, as I imagined boulders might chuckle, and I knew the Balrog had deliberately undone its fire. Doubtless it could still see me, with senses other than sight, but I was essentially blind.

I could not stand still, then. With my hand out before my face, I began to run again. A moment later, I discovered I'd become slightly disoriented when I ran right into the building; I managed not to tumble to the ground and instead ran along next to the wall, my hand sliding down it.

Behind me I heard a single deep _thrummm_, then silence. Or was that from in front of me? Above me? I kept running-- I had no choice.

My eyes were becoming adjusted: I could make out the shapes of the buildings, and thought I would be able to see movement. But I did not see the Balrog, not until it was too late. The wall of the building I was following exploded outward without the slightest warning, and one head-sized chunk caught my helmet a glancing blow.

I stumbled and fell. Turning myself over onto my back, I could barely see an enormous hand, fire glowing just below the skin, reaching out for me. I scrambled for my axe, almost lost in the fall, and lashed out at the index finger.

The finger was farther than it looked-- my eyes were cheated by the darkness and the incredible size of my foe. The blow meant to chop the finger in half merely nicked it, but elicited a bellow nonetheless. I rolled aside and half-crawled, half-ran away, hoping I had turned towards the Temple.

I whispered out a quick prayer to Mahal for guidance and ducked into a doorway. Looking back, I saw no movement, and could guess at where the hole might be: a darker splash amidst the all-surrounding blackness. But the Balrog had vanished as surely as if it had been only a figment of my imagination. I spent a moment recovering my bearings and, realizing I had gotten myself turned around, set off past the hole and onwards, keeping against the wall.

Once again I heard one deep _thrummm_, still impossible to locate-- I swallowed my fear and continued. I rounded the corner and made out the Temple two hundred feet down the road from me.

I peered through the darkness around me, listened for the smallest shifting of smoldering limbs, but the Demon was hiding far too well; it must be a fair distance away. So I decided to risk a flat-out run... I took several deep breaths and prepared for one last dash. If this worked the battle would be all but over.

I took off, feet thudding carelessly against the stone. 150 feet away, 100 feet, 50 feet and my plan shattered.

A street's distance away to my right a shape burst up from behind the buildings, a huge form rising up to an unmeasurable size. I focused on running but with three enormous strides the Demon blocked my path. The mindspeech hit me with a feeling of exultation, and I skidded to a halt not 20 feet away from my enemy.

It stood before me, finally drawn up to its full height, wings spread wide enough to shadow the whole road. The entire body seemed to be a dark glass with a seething fire within, but that lasted only a moment and the flame burst forth again. I was almost blinded by the sudden light, but threw myself to one side and scrambled to the scant shelter of the buildings. The Demon drew out its sword and advanced on me; I blinked, clambered to my feet, and readied my axe.

The Balrog regarded me for a moment, holding its sword ready to strike. I gauged the distance to the Temple's entrance, wondered how fast I could run, and quickly discarded that idea. Instead I backed up, one hand feeling behind me for an alleyway, eyes fixed on my foe. But it did not seem to want to attack; rather, after a moment, it squeezed its hand and the sword shrunk into itself and vanished. Then it held out one hand towards me.

Confused, I continued retreating-- what was the Demon doing? I felt the Power flowing inwards to that clenched hand, though, like a breeze blowing through my spirit, and in a flash of terror I realized what it was about to do.

I turned and ran, turning down the first crooked little passageway I found. The feeling of Power flowing over me stopped, and then everything went crazy.


	5. Chapter 5

5

There was a flash of a light from behind me, so bright even the reflection from the stone nearly blinded me. Sound disappeared entirely, as if the world had forgotten it existed, and then the buildings I had been running between shattered. They didn't crumble, that would have been safe-- no, they split into 10-pound fragments that struck me from all sides, smashing my axe from my hands. I felt like I was being crushed in a massive fist, squeezed into a shapeless mass of flesh and bone and metal, and when it stopped I found myself trapped in a mound of rocks. I could barely even turn my head.

I groaned softly, and even that hurt. I knew I had to escape or I would be quickly slain, but I couldn't even see anything around me. All I could do was hear, and I heard the thrumming, now sounding exultant. The ground quivered slightly, and the beast stood over me-- I could feel its huge form towering above me, the strength of its will casting a shadow over my mind.

I braced myself, and then the rocks around me shuddered and shifted. The Balrog was digging down, I realized, and I found I could turn my head now. I looked back, and the rock right behind my head tumbled away to reveal the enormous cloven foot of my enemy. I shoved myself backwards and did a reverse somersault, barely avoiding the hand reaching down towards me.

My graceful roll had a most undignified ending with my back slamming against an especially large rock. Stars dancing before my eyes, I staggered upright and did some very fast thinking. The Balrog, having missed me, was turning around; I had perhaps two seconds to run. But I had no weapon, and I could see my axe's head protruding from the hollow that had held my body. I gauged the distance and ran straight for it, right between the Demon's legs.

I threw out one hand to catch myself against one of the rocks, snatched the thankfully-unbroken axe from its trap, and spun. The Balrog was still turning, and I got a severely annoyed mindspeech stroke. I smiled grimly, and turned to run, but...

I knew it wasn't the wisest decision, to attack when I should be devoting all my energy to getting back to the Temple. But I was fed up with continuously running, and I had a mind to make my foe hurt for what he had done-- I pulled the axe back for a mighty blow and brought it down on the nearest foot with enough force to split stone.

There was that screech of metal on stone, and a shower of sparks. The Balrog bellowed in fury and smote at me with its fist; I ducked under the blow and hewed the leg again. Then the other foot came up unexpectedly; I tried to dodge, but it caught me right at my waist and sent me flying through the air. I sailed some 30 feet before landing painfully on my back, with my heavy plate armor dented into my stomach.

Fortunately I did not smack my head into anything, and the Demon had kicked me towards the Temple. I scrambled up, wincing, and hobbled towards the steps.

Behind me I heard, once again, the sound of Power, and a backwards glance showed the bow in the Demon's hands. Another burst of Power later and it was aiming an arrow at me, an arrow I had no cover to protect against.

I had one chance. Thinking quickly I caught up one of my throwing axes and hurled it directly towards the arrow, just before its release. The axe head met the fire bolt and the two exploded together in mid-air; with a moment's regret for the lost axe I turned and hobbled faster.

An almost admiring mindspeech attempt hit me, and then the sound of Power again. Tricks only work once, and I decided to drop to the ground this time.

Bad timing. I dropped too soon, and the Demon re-aimed and fired right into my back. The arrow hit me like an enormous fist driven into my back, sending me sliding forward with a cry-- fortunately it was a poor angle, and the arrow ricocheted rather than penetrating. My armor held, barely, but now it burned me and felt like it had been twisted in to stick deep into my back. I scrambled up and made a last dash to the Temple-- in my condition, that meant fast walking speed. It was near enough now that I managed to get behind a column before the Demon could pull out a third arrow, and I staggered towards the statue of Mahal and the interconnected strings of lightning fuse. Next to them I had left a ready flint and a small bit of slow-burning fuel; I lit the fuel and waited.

Sure enough, the Balrog arrived quickly and stood before the Temple. But the Demon-glow pouring in past the columns was not followed by the Demon itself. Why not? What was it thinking?

Another mindspeech attempt. This one was amused, with a sense of comprehension that made my heart lurch. My foe knew my plan, it would not enter.

But no, the mindspeech now gave a sense of 'playing along'. The Balrog strode forward between the columns, and with a satisfying effectiveness the two mines planted there went off simultaneously in flashes of orange and yellow-- the Balrog stumbled forward with a growl, and the columns wavered then fell into one another. When the dust settled, the exit was choked with the broken columns, and the Balrog was snarling as it sought me. Mahal seemed to be cloaking me once again, and I grinned to myself as I watched the beast looking into the corners and around the columns.

I was peering around the nearest column, the burning fuel in one hand and the lightning fuse waiting in the other. The Demon had not yet entered the fatal hexagon, though, and I began to become impatient.

Finally the Balrog stepped between the six columns and I brought the fuel to the fuse. It ignited with a violent hiss and the flame raced towards the mines. The Balrog froze, then, just before the mines went off, I saw it try to turn and hurl itself from the trap. But it failed.

The mines exploded as one, and the smoke and dust obscured all within. Only the tops of the columns showed, and I saw them quiver, then crack down from the ceiling one after another. With sounds as of the hammer of the underworld itself, the columns smashed into the floor then fell in slow-motion inwards. When the stone had finished crashing down and the smoke had begun to clear, I started towards the mound.

It shifted angrily, and I saw one massive column shiver then roll off the pile. It revealed the back of the Demon's head, and with a victorious cry I charged it. Even as it turned the burning eyes on me, I reached it and struck a blow.

And what a blow. It was a blow for all Dwarves, for those murdered by the beast and those I could save. It was a blow for our scarred home, for all the crimes this creature had committed, and I put every remaining spark of energy into it.

The axe blade clove deep into the Demon's head, just above the eye. But rather than striking down to the brain, it turned aside and sheared through the outer skin. The roar the beast responded with almost knocked me back by itself, and left my ears ringing-- furious at the failure, I pulled the axe back and prepared another blow.

"For Father," I snarled, then swung the axe. But the Balrog had gotten one arm free, and warded off this blow; that cost it a finger, hewn off at the base, but protected the head. Then I sensed that current of Power flowing in towards the heap, and knew I had only seconds.

I tried for one last blow, but that hand lashed out and knocked my axe from my hands and me onto my back. I rolled over to go for the axe, but it was too late: the Power stopped flowing, and then came the explosion. The entire mound vanished in a blaze of light bright as an exploding star, and I was sent tumbling and rolling across the floor to slam into the base of Mahal's statue.

I knew immediately my back was broken-- the rock that had caught me was too heavy for the already-strained armor. I groaned and looked for my axe, but could not move. The Demon stood there, the burning blood dripping from its head and hand, and stared at me. I cowered back, and then watched in horror as it held up its undamaged hand. Power flowed in again, but this time it gathered around the hand and formed a thick glow; the Balrog wrapped this hand around its other hand for a minute, then moved it to the head wound. I gaped in horror to see the missing finger replaced, and then closed my eyes, praying to Mahal to bring the end swiftly.

What of my people? I could only hope they swiftly determined I was dead, without waiting for the Demon's attack to flee. Perhaps they would be able to escape without more death. I, though, had failed. Now it was for me to go to seek my father and my ancestors before me, and I felt the fear and adrenaline drain from me. My life was at its end, and I was at peace.

I opened my eyes to see the Demon still regarding me. It struck at me with mindspeech, and I wearily dropped my defenses. I wanted to know what my foe wished to say, it didn't matter any more.

[A worthy foe, but a foolish one. None can prevail against the Valaraukar.] It took one step towards me, closing the gap, and reached down a hand. Almost gently, it wrapped the hand around me; with a final groan, I felt my armor begin to warp in the heat, my hair shriveled and burst into flame, my skin began crackling. I knew no more.

-Author's Note-

Well, here it is-- my own take on how, exactly, the Balrog did in King Nain. All Tolkien said was that Durin VI and Nain were both killed by the Balrog, so I decided to flesh out the story somewhat. I hope the ending is not disappointing... but, of course, you know I didn't really have a choice as to how to end the story. Oh well...


End file.
